


Consequences

by Mari_who



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Femdom, Mild Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:22:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24372736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_who/pseuds/Mari_who
Summary: Hades is home late.  Someone's been waiting up.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 194





	Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Mild, mostly psychological Dom/sub play, nothing super kinky, just some fun mind games. And sex.

"Welcome home," she said.

Hades, startled, nearly dropped his keys. 

He hadn't _wanted_ to stay out so late. He had _intended_ to have one drink and a brief conversation with his brothers - as brief as he could make it - and then hurry home to his young, lovely, waiting bride. The bloom had not left their married life, and he had begun to think it never would.

She kept things in blossom.

But Zeus had wanted to talk shop, and he knew how to snipe his elder brother's interest with judicial intricacies. His 'one drink' had multiplied. And before he knew it…

"Sweetness, I'm so sorry," he said as he turned from locking the door, towards her voice. "The time got away from me."

The living room was dark; he could see her silhouetted, see the tips of her stilettos highlighted by a sliver of moonlight coming through the transom behind him. 

That was the first strange thing. Persephone almost never wore shoes in the house. Slippers yes - her toes got cold - but heels? Those heels specifically?

(He remembered buying them for her. Remembered giving them to her. Remembered, vividly, her coming to bed that night with nothing but those heels on. And people thought men hated shoe-shopping.)

"I'm of a mind to be upset with you," Persephone said from the darkness. "I had plans for us tonight."

He dropped his head, guilt twisting his stomach. "I know," he sighed. "I missed dinner and movie night. I was really looking forward to The Thirty-Nine Steps...how can I make it up to you?"

He heard her shifting, reaching out, and the lights snapped on around them.

And he looked up, and did drop his keys.

Persephone, in his absence, had pulled his leather armchair around to face the front door, and she occupied it - owning the space as though she owned the world.

The stilettos. Her legs crossed at the knee, one delicate black shoe tucked neatly against the other calf. Skirt also black, short, stretched tight over every curve. Sheer black blouse, french cuffs, making her hands long and elegant. Hint of glossy satin underneath its open collar. Dark jewels dripping from her throat and earlobes. Dark lips, tilted in a smirking moue, a glisten of teeth.

Dark crown spearing out from her close-cropped curls.

Dark eyes, watching him.

"I made some other plans," she told him.

"I." He lost the sentence there and struggled to find it again. "I…"

She smiled at him.

"Are you very drunk? That would be a shame."

"Ah...no. I had three drinks. And then coffee, and time enough to sober up before the drive home." He felt an inner urge to fidget and steeled himself against it. 

"I think you'll need to prove that to me," she murmured. "Take off your jacket...take off everything but your pants and undershirt. Now. And set it all aside, neatly."

Strange, a part of his mind puzzled, how his Underworld mansion was suddenly so _warm_. He touched the knot of his tie, and hesitated, trapped by her gaze.

"Or you can sleep it off," she said, diffident, though avarice smoldered in her eyes. "Your choice, my love."

Easy choice.

Deliberately, carefully, Hades began to undress. It was difficult to go slow, to give each item the precise treatment she had requested, but he managed. The floor was chill under his bare feet - the rest of him was flushed, throbbing.

"Come here," she said. "If you sway or stumble, you're going to sleep."

He had never walked a tenser twenty feet in his life.

She stood as he reached her, smiling a knowing little smile, and spread her hands over his chest, feeling him through the thin and stretched fabric of his undershirt. His shiver at her touch. He leaned in to kiss her, but she pressed her thumb underneath his jaw, tilting his head up.

"You don't get that yet," she said. "I _want_ to kiss you...but you disappointed me tonight. Privileges must be earned. Do you understand...Aidoneus?"

Her voice was a velvet purr; he was defenseless before it. "I understand," he said, and heard his voice shake. 

"I am going to enjoy," she told him, "and you are going to be patient. Can you be very patient for me?" Her mouth was against his skin now, vibrating words over the tender spot at the base of his throat (which she could not have reached without those shoes) and he felt himself beginning to float, inside his head. Drifting on a warm, hazy fog of lust.

"Yes," he said. "Yes."

"Good," she said. "I am going to kiss you. You may kiss me back, but you may not touch me with your hands. When I pull back, stop."

Then - without asking or waiting for a reply - her hands clenched tightly in his hair, pulling him down, and despite her controlled facade her kiss was _ravenous_. He instantly knew how difficult this game would be. She sucked and hummed and bit, and murmured approval of his moans in a growling little voice that went straight to his cock, and mercifully she stopped before he lost his control and his mind.

She leaned back flushed and panting, which pleased him. "Very...very good," she said. "Follow me upstairs. Stay three steps behind me. Do not ask questions."

She turned and walked away.

He carefully counted to her third step,and followed, watching her hips sway as she climbed the stairs. 

She never looked back, not once; but she did allow the hem of that tight skirt to slide up with every step, giving him a maddening glimpse of inner thigh, of the lacy band of her stockings, and of the fact that she was wearing no underwear at all.

She paced elegantly down the hall, her jewelry chiming against itself with each step. There was nothing he could do but follow. A mirror in the hall showed her haughty, flushed face, but her eyes in the reflection did not meet his.

Into their bedroom.

"Shut the door," she said, "and then stand there, facing me - feet shoulder width apart - hands clasped behind your back."

The click of the door shutting was so much louder than he had noticed before. There was a finality to it. He felt desperately aroused and, at the same time, peaceful. 

Surrendered.

He stood at parade rest, hands clenched, his whole body humming with sweet tension. 

She was sitting on the bed, just as she had been downstairs when he came home; legs crossed, back straight, radiating a cruel serenity. Her jewels sparkled where the lamplight struck them, casting little flecks of light around the room. She was watching him. And smiling.

"Take off your shirt and drop it on the floor," she said.

He heard her moving, as he pulled the shirt up and off; by the time it hit the floor she was inches away. Her hands spread wide across his stomach, low, feeling the fuzz of his body hair and the simmering heat of him. 

"Well done," she said. And, "Fates, you're beautiful. I never get tired of looking at you. I love that I get to. I love that you're _mine_.

"You may kiss me again. Same rules as before. Quick - "

He bent down before she could finish the sentence, and captured her mouth, drowning in her soft heat. All his love and desire for her went into that kiss. He worshipped her mouth with his own and reveled in every pleased sound it wrung from her.

When she pulled back at last it was almost painful not to follow. But he managed. She leaned her head against his chest, panting, and they just...stood there for a long few moments, breathing together, feeling each other's heartbeats.

She looked up at him with wide, hectic eyes.

"Stoplights," she said. "Where are you now?"

He rocked his hips forward, pressing the raging swell of his cock against her stomach, and growled his answer. "Green."

"Hh - good," she gasped. He couldn't hide his grin at this crack in her facade, and she pushed herself back from him, with a little shake of her head. "I hope you enjoyed that, love. You're going to pay for it. Now turn around."

He turned, and felt her fingers clasp his wrists, fingers not quite able to meet around them.

"I know how strong you are," she said quietly. Stroking up the length of his forearms to feel the muscles taut with his control, tickling lightly, moving up to stroke his bared back. "I know that, if I were - for example - to bind you with steel, you could break free easily, and would only be humoring me by wearing them. But I want you to do something for me."

"Anything," he said. "Whatever my Queen commands."

"I want you to _believe,_ " she told him. "I am binding your hands with your faith in me, and only my word will loose them. I want you to know in your _heart_ that you are at my mercy. Can you do that for me, Aidoneus?"

She took hold of his arms, and turned him to face her. 

" _Look at me and tell me you believe,_ " she said. Challenging...commanding.

And he let go.

Complete trust. Complete faith. As though he were a small thing held trembling in her hand. 

"I believe," he said, his voice breaking. 

"Thank you," she whispered up at him, "for having faith."

And then her nimble fingers were busy at his waist, and she was sliding the cloth down off of him; he was naked, bound and naked before his glorious queen with his whole body trembling and his aching cock bobbing with every heartbeat. All his scars exposed. 

Those were hers, too; his pain, his shame, his skin and bone and blood were hers.

She cooed approval of his body and touched him, maddeningly light strokes over his belly, grazing her fingertips around the base of his cock, and lower. "Spread your legs more," she instructed, and raked her fingernails up his inner thighs - not tearing, not hurting, but enough to wrench a tortured groan from deep in his chest.

She took two steps back from him, and he almost cried at the separation. 

"Kneel down," she said, and he fell to his knees. 

"Good. Further." He bowed his head, hunching forward, trying to retain his balance without using his arms. 

He felt her come closer, close enough to hear how her breath hitched and shuddered; then her hand was on the back of his neck, gripping, pushing him down - forcing his shoulders and head down to the carpet, next to her feet. He relaxed into the pose. Giving his willing obeisance.

She stood over him with a sweet, triumphant smile, and rested the tiny toe of her shoe atop his shoulder.

"If I am your goddess, Aidoneus," she murmured, "then _worship me_."

Gods, the shudder of lust that wracked him at those words. 

He reverently kissed her instep, her arch, the thin strap of leather circling the fine bones of her ankle. Continued up along the curve of her calf, moaning at the silky feel of her stockings against his mouth. She hissed in a pleased breath, shifting her weight, spreading her feet wider apart for him. 

He nipped at her tender thigh right above the curve of her knee, making her gasp. The hem of her little skirt bunched in her fingers; she slowly drew it up as he moved higher.

"Stop," she said. "Stop there."

His body felt ungainly, full of hot blood, reluctant to obey the soft voice keeping him from his desire. But it was a pleasure to obey, too, forcing that beastly hunger back, stifling and smothering it. For her. He rested his head against her thigh and moaned. "Please…"

"You still have to atone." Her hand rested on his head, pushing the hair back so she could see his eyes. The crimson was beginning to rise in them despite all his control. "Watch me. Don't move."

They watched each other as she shed her sheer blouse, and then the satin bra beneath it, and finally the tiny skirt, opening a hidden zipper in the back. Each garment dropped thoughtlessly aside, as her gaze never left him. 

Somehow she was more imposing this way, every inch of her beauty revealed to him - so close he could feel the heat radiating from her, but unreachable at her command. He could have wept. Shadows in the low-light room made her a towering statue above him, a hungry deity from some older pantheon, sacrificed to with blood or sex, or both.

"Follow me, but do not stand," she instructed. She stepped back from him, two steps, then three, and sat on the edge of his bed again. "Come to my feet."

He moved forward on his knees, thankful the carpet was plush and soft, trying to move gracefully for her.

She lifted her crown away, setting it carefully on the bedside table, and did the same with each earring; pulled his pillows over to her and arranged them behind her back until she was reclining comfortably, raised just enough to see him before her.

She licked at her bottom lip, a little anxious, but it didn't show in her voice.

"Put your hands on the bed, on either side of me."

He obeyed. 

Smoothly, slowly, she slid her legs up from between his body and the mattress, and spread them, hooking her calves over his arms and wriggling down until her heels brushed his sides.

Her delectable sex exposed for him, soaked and swollen… _ready._ He felt a desperate need to taste or to fill her, but not _yet,_ he told himself desperately, not yet, not until…

"Now," Persephone said, "I would love to let you taste me...or fuck me...I'm aching, Aidoneus, I want to _beg_ for your cock, to feel how well you fill my needy little pussy, how hard you come in me…"

He forced his eyes closed and growled through gritted teeth, digging his fingers hard into the mattress. 

Control. Control. Even when she knew exactly which words made him throb and ache. Hold onto it.

"But I can't do that," she sighed. "Because you were late. And as your queen...I must remind you that there are consequences. 

"Open your eyes and watch me."

He wrenched his eyes open to find her tiny, nimble fingers already between her thighs.

"Ohh, sweetness, _fuck_ ," he gasped, and she laughed in reply, breathy and wicked.

"I - mmm - didn't give you permission to speak, love...but I'll allow it," she sighed. Spreading herself with her fingertips. Showing him everything. Thick, succulent outer labia framed by lust-slick curls, the delicate orchid petals of her inner folds, her clit swollen out of its hood like a ripe berry. She adjusted her hands slightly and traced up and down along herself, soaking her fingers and spreading that honeyed liquid over her clit. He felt her shudder in his arms at her own shameless caress.

"Oh...you see, sweet boy? What you've done to us? You could've had this." She panted out each word as her body grew restless in his arms, twisting. She slid the index and middle fingers of her right hand down between her lips, on either side of her clit, and pressed them together to squeeze the glistening little bud; those fingers worked up and down, squeezing, pressing, sliding. He could hear the liquid sounds it made. Her free hand flew to her breasts and began to toy with her nipples, tugging and twisting, just this side of rough. 

Her body began a slow undulation, hips rising and falling, thrusting against her touch.

"Y-you may," she rasped, "move my legs to your shoulders. And touch yourself. _Do not come,_ Aidoneus."

Gods - not touching was almost better, he thought deliriously, after tightening his fist around his cock. He was unbelievably hard, pulsing, sensitive as hell - that first touch dragged a hoarse cry from him, and Persephone answered with her own, her heels tapping an arrhythmic tattoo against his back as she ground her fingers in a rocking, sliding thrust. So close to him that the back of her hand brushed his chest as it moved.

" _Persephone, please,"_ he said. Gone beyond shame. Helplessly thrusting into his own precum-slick fist, fighting the muscular contractions that kept trying to happen, to explode out of his control. "Gods - goddess please, I love you, I can't take it, let me _in_ you - "

"Yes," she said, "yes, enough, PLEASE - "

When he dragged her from the bed and speared his aching cock into her, when he felt her nails and teeth digging into his shoulders and her hot little sheath clenching in a helpless orgasm around him - the sounds she made, her trembling, the liquid heat pulsing down from her to coat his sack and drip onto the floor - Hades roared her name like a battle cry, gave two spastic, uncontrolled thrusts, and came hard into his queen, his wife, his everything.

The world went soft and dark for a time.

When he came back to himself, Persephone was still in his lap - still connected. She clung to him, breathing, kissing the bite marks she's left along his shoulder.

He nuzzled at her and smiled. "Am I forgiven, then?"

"Mm...almost…" He felt her grin. "Your goddess requires a new movie date...and you're making dinner."

"Slavedriver," he whispered, and hugged her tight.


End file.
